Kate Bowler:
Okay, well it’s actually my very favorite episode of the year where one of my favorite people on the planet, Kelly Corgan, and I decide to be concertedly, embarrassingly, unashamedly, that’s not a word, but it will be.
Kelly Corrigan:
I’ll be happy. It doesn’t matter, because we’re so happy that it’s fine. This is our chance. Unashamedly happy.
Kate Bowler:
Yes, to take the shame out of it, unashamedly.
Kelly Corrigan:
Supposedly, we’re allowed to be happy. It’s going to happen now. Hey, Lovey. Thanks for doing this with me. I love that you call me Lovey, it reminds me of my dad. That’s what he called me. You and my dad — that’s good company. Yeah, really good.
Kate Bowler:
Last week we were as negative as we wanted to be because we were—
Kelly Corrigan:
We’re really unhappy. Yeah, we were reviewing the crappies of the year, personal, professional, global. But this week…
Kate Bowler:
We like to do a kind of concentric rings of things. The first is personal and the next professional and then in the world. And then every now and if we have time we’ll do a zinger. But we like to start with the innermost happy. So I would love if you wanted to start us off. What is your happiest personal moment that happened this year?
Kelly Corrigan:
So I got asked by TED, you know, the big speaker people — I had given a TED talk the year before and then I got asked to curate a session on stage. And my whole TED thing was like, in an AI world, what is humanity for? And my question was, in an AI world, what is a parent for?
And so we were exploring this idea of how AI will insert itself into the parent-child relationship, how it will change it, and how it will change what a nagging, sleepy, very human parent can and will do for a kid — versus, say, a kid in a crib with an AI plush toy that talks to it and answers its every question on command forever and ever.
What happens when that kid becomes an adult and has to be in relationship with dumb old people? Will he or she even choose to do something like that?
So anyway, there were two people I really wanted to speak to this. One was my friend Andy Lotz, whose wife Liz died about ten years ago of ovarian cancer after a long, seven-year, eighty-eight-rounds-of-chemotherapy fight, with an eight-year-old, a ten-year-old, and a twelve-year-old. Now all her kids are grown — her youngest is in college.
I really wanted Andy to try to put his finger on the humanity of those moments he lived with Liz and how utterly inadequate AI would have been to participate in any of that.
The other person I wanted was Duncan Keegan from Dublin. He had sent in a eulogy for his five-year-old son, who had died of a rare medical condition, to our “Thanks for Being Here” feed on Kelly Corrigan Wonders. It was so moving that Tammy called me and said, “You need to clear your calendar — this is going to knock you back.”
I read it, and I said, “We have to talk to this person.” We set up a call, and he was tender and poetic and raw and generous and funny. So he was the second person I wanted on the TED stage.
In April, our session went up. There were six of us on this little team, and helping someone write, rehearse, and give a TED Talk is the most maternal experience. It’s like being a JV lacrosse coach — I will do anything to help you understand how you’re playing and how to play better.
Once we were onsite in Vancouver, they have these practice rooms with a miniature red TED rug and the exact clock you’ll be looking at. Between breaks, Andy would ask, “Can we go up and try it one more time?” Both Andy and Duncan are A-students — they were never going to stop refining.
Edward, my husband, was there. When Andy went up, our knees were shaking. This is our best friend. Our families are like cousins. I’ve never cried more with another person than I have with Andy Lotz.
He walked on stage in his everyday clothes — no TED suit — and he was better on that red rug than he ever had been in months of rehearsal. Hugging him afterward was one of the top five hugs of my life.
Then Duncan went last. I knew the Irish accent would cast a spell, but he was talking about the death of his son. Anything could have happened. And yet he was calm. We made eye contact, and I remember thinking, “You’re doing it. You’re saying what needs to be said about this beautiful boy.”
Anyone who watches those talks understands that what we can do for one another will always be superior in some ways — even acknowledging human failure. That was my year-long high.
Kate Bowler:
I love how you heard that assignment as, “Who do I know who can tell the most deeply human story about what it feels like to pour out one heart into another?”
Kelly Corrigan:
Yeah, it wasn’t, “Who do I know who’s famous?”
Kate Bowler:
Or clever, or well-researched — but who has paid the cost, who has walked to the edge and felt that bright abyss. It reminds me of Nick Cave talking about why AI-written songs in his style are a travesty — because grief is not something you can simulate.
Kelly Corrigan:
Exactly. AI is unlimited. We are limited. And our limitations are essential to love.
Kate Bowler:
Exactly. Who has paid the cost, who has walked up to the edge and felt that bright abyss. It reminds me of Nick Cave, the singer-songwriter. People were putting his lyrics into ChatGPT and sending him AI-generated songs “in the style of Nick Cave,” thinking it was a tribute. And his response was that it was a travesty — because it was only through the loss of his son that he could write about love and bravery and grief.
How can something talk about love when it has never felt the air sucked out of the room? How can it talk about bravery when it has never been strained and breaking? And I just thought — you understood that assignment.
Kelly Corrigan:
It’s the limitations. AI is unlimited — unlimited time, attention, access, information. And we are limited. We have to sleep, we need food, we have mothers, histories, addictions, desires, holy and unholy parts of ourselves.
And when we choose each other, we’re doing it at some cost.
Kelly Corrigan:
AI is not staying up late to talk to you. AI is not overlooking the smell of a sick person’s body to be close to them. Our limitations are essential to conveying emotion because we overcome them to love someone. AI never does that.
Kate Bowler:
Except the needs of a New Jersey town where it no longer has the ability to use a washer-dryer.
Kelly Corrigan:
True. Thank you. Exactly.
Kate Bowler:
Kelly, this story is one of the best things you’ve ever told me, and I will treasure it in my heart. Thank you.
Kelly Corrigan:
I hope you get to meet them. They’re so special.
Kate Bowler:
They sound truly heroic.
Kelly Corrigan:
I’m a better person for every conversation I’ve ever had with them.
Kate Bowler:
Your answer made me entirely change my answer, because now I want to tell you about one of the best days of my life. And it happened this year.
It started out ambivalent. I got a call that the University of Manitoba — where both my parents worked — wanted to offer me an honorary doctorate. Which is such a big deal. Thank you so much.
But underneath that was this unanswered question in my family: can we tell the story of what it cost my parents to work there? Especially my dad, whose depression was so enormous and so intimately tied to trying to make a life as a historian at that university.
For thirty years, he taught castoff classes — six to eight at a time — paid per course, driving all over the city, teaching subjects far outside his specialty. He stayed up all night buried in blue books. His depression nearly destroyed him.
Meanwhile, my mom had a beautiful office and a flourishing career. They retired with sixty combined years of service. And so when the university called to honor me, my daughter-heart wondered: will this hurt my dad?
Kelly Corrigan:
How do you honor that guy?
Kate Bowler:
Exactly. I wanted my parents to see that everything they did mattered. That teaching thousands of students meant thousands of good jobs done — office hours, letters of recommendation decades later, inviting students into your home. A professor’s life stays intertwined forever.
The university surprised me. They robed my parents and seated them on stage with me. Colleagues surrounded them. Leadership listened openly when I said, “This place treated my dad badly.” They responded with humility and care.
I gave a speech about what my parents taught me — to be interested and interesting, deeply curious, intellectually rigorous. I looked out and my mom was crying. We hugged on stage, all of us in ridiculous hats, weeping.
Later, we threw a party called The Work Is Weird Party, where everyone had to say something about their job that cost them more than they expected. It was cathartic.
They rolled out the red carpet for my parents. It became one of the best days of my life.
Kelly Corrigan:
That’s so curative. The fact that decades of suffering can be reframed — even a little — feels like good news for everyone. It takes effort, but it’s possible.
Kate Bowler:
The shiny part mattered, but what mattered most was that they saw my heart break for what they gave. We can give that gift to each other — naming the cost.
Kelly Corrigan:
And it’s the specificity that convinces people you really understand. Making the list shows you were paying attention.
Kate Bowler:
That’s such good advice — count the cost, articulate it.
Kelly Corrigan:
My professional high this year — we had a live event in Bozeman, Montana. Sold out in ten minutes. People came from twenty-eight states. Seeing real people instead of trend lines was incredible.
And then this wild thing happened on the podcast. Someone wrote a letter thanking their anonymous kidney donor. A listener heard it and decided to donate a kidney. Then we shared the donor’s letter — and then the recipient’s response. Lives literally saved.
Kate Bowler:
What?!
Kelly Corrigan:
I know. Phenomenal.
Kate Bowler:
People saving each other’s lives. The best.
Kelly Corrigan:
It made visible how one person can matter profoundly to another. Seeing the end use of your contribution changes everything.
Kate Bowler:
That reminds me of research on extraordinary altruists — people who can imagine others as an extension of themselves. Extending the outline of your emotional universe.
Kelly Corrigan:
I love that — dissolving where I end and you begin. Our nervous systems are tangled up right now. We’re all in a good soup together.
Kate Bowler:
My professional high was researching joy. Anne Patchett once joked that I should try writing about happy people. I took it seriously. I have a book coming out called Joyful Anyway.
Joy is under-researched, elusive, existential. It’s not microjoys. It’s a surprising confrontation — a deep yes.
Kelly Corrigan:
What does joy look like for you now?
Kate Bowler:
It’s the click between fear and grace — when something could have gone one way and didn’t. That flooding-in feeling. It’s hard to explain at parties.
Kelly Corrigan:
I think joy is connected to recognizing near-misses. Visiting what could have gone wrong deepens gratitude.
Kate Bowler:
Emotionally loading the what-if — that makes so much sense.
Kelly Corrigan:
My global high: green energy growth. Solar up 31%, wind up 8%, renewables overtook coal. Even against policy headwinds, it’s unstoppable.
Kate Bowler:
That’s encouraging.
Kelly Corrigan:
It’s crossed the tipping point.
Kate Bowler:
My global optimism came from Scandinavia — seeing how Finland and Estonia respond to fear with community. Action absorbs anxiety. Preparedness builds trust.
Kelly Corrigan:
That’s phenomenal.
Kate Bowler:
Even religion there is quiet, creative, service-oriented. Trusted institutions acting well.
Kelly Corrigan:
Ask twenty questions if they say they’re not spiritual.
Kate Bowler:
Exactly. Trust is built through daily care.
Kelly Corrigan:
Turns out there were lots of happy things this year.
Kate Bowler:
Did you have a zinger?
Kelly Corrigan:
I read more great books this year than the last ten combined.
Kate Bowler:
That’s wonderful.
Kelly Corrigan:
I learned a lot. I’m smarter this year.
Kate Bowler:
I started taking improv classes.
Kelly Corrigan:
I bet you’re hilarious.
Kate Bowler:
It’s emotional education — learning to really listen and say yes.
Kelly Corrigan:
That’s fantastic.
Kate Bowler:
All right, my love. We did it. We were sufficiently happy.
Kelly Corrigan:
Always.
Kate Bowler:
This felt particularly soulful.
Kelly Corrigan:
I agree. All right, Miss Bowler.
Kate Bowler:
May everything you apply for be granted.
Kelly Corrigan:
May all your wishes be granted.
Kate Bowler:
You’re not exactly literate, but that’s real.
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